


This is our home

by Cao_the_dreamer



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Agender Character, Angst, Blind Character, Children of various ages, Earth is a very advanced world, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Future AU, Grief/Mourning, Humans invented space travel, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Friendship, Killing disease, Lost in space - Freeform, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Sort Of, Trans Character, bit of gore, science fiction AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cao_the_dreamer/pseuds/Cao_the_dreamer
Summary: The crew of the Lost Light hears a distress call, and finds a spaceship cursed by death, only inhabited by children. And what do a crew of misfits have to do when they find kids lost in space, all alone?It's simple: to these children born under the stars, they give them a new family.





	1. Prologue

Their worst enemy was silence.

 

They avoided silence as much as they could. They talked, though it was difficult to find a subject of conversation in such a grim atmosphere. They worked, to occupy their mind so it would not drift to dangerous thoughts. They cared about those alive… 

 

So they would not have to think about those dead.

 

The dead could not talk; the dead had become silent, forever. And no cry, no plea, made them come back. More than once the older ones had to separate the younger from the bodies they were clutching in despair, as if touch could reanimate the cold flesh.

 

Stars too were cold and silent. They brought no comfort to them, only loneliness. Such loneliness would be heightened even further by the size of the place they resided in since birth. Their home a vessel, their vessel a morgue. 

 

Empty of life.

 

They did not know how to run such a place. They did not know how to take care of a spaceship that had been flying through cold blue stars for years and was now drifting among them. 

 

They were too young, and only had been taught the basics, which they exploited at the present time to survive — off-ground cultivation could help them not to starve. But fuel was running low, and they had no knowledge of navigation, and would not last long.

 

They had called for help.

 

And nobody came.

 

Yet.

 

But no one could have guessed what the ‘yet’ would be.

 


	2. The Meeting, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place before Overlord wreaks havoc aboard the Lost Light.
> 
> As said in the tags, Earth is here a technological advanced world, and space travel is (almost) a common thing.
> 
> Shout out to my wonderful beta-readers :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the slag is that?”

“That, Captain, is a spaceship,” Ultra Magnus said flatly, resisting the urge to lecture Rodimus about manners.

The red and gold mech rolled his optics.

“I can see it’s a spaceship, Magnus, I’m not blind. The thing is, it’s doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before.”

Indeed the design was unknown to the bots gathered on the bridge — neither from Cybertron nor from the Galactic Council. The vessel was huge, almost as large as the  _ Lost Light _ , but seeing its apparent lack of weapons, it seemed to have a civilian function rather than a military one. The  _ Lost Light  _ had picked up a distress call, and since it was “on their way” (even though they had no exact trail to follow), they traced the source of this signal to discover this vessel floating aimlessly around.

“Rodimus, Captain,” Blaster’s voice rose, “there is something painted on the ship’s side.”

To emphasize his words, he zoomed in, revealing, on the giant screen, a logo that drew a few surprised gasps from quite a few bots’ vocalizer. 

“Is that… Is that Earth’s emblem?” someone asked.

Rare were the Autobots that had not heard of this peculiar planet. Years ago, Megatron and his soldiers had invaded Earth, ready to wreak havoc and make this planet the new centre of the Decepticon Empire. What they did not expect, however, was to encounter harsh resistance from the autochtones. Humans, as this kind called itself, were gifted with unbreakable perseverance, along with a technology which, even if not as advanced as the Cybertronian one, allowed them to slow the Decepticon’s progress until the Autobots’ arrival. Pit, one of them had even been able to shoot Megatron in the head! Even if humans were just soft and small bags of flesh and blood, they had earned the respect of the Autobots, and had become a precious ally.

But then, what was this spaceship doing here, so far away from its planet? 

The only way to know was to ask. 

The screen flickered, then became dark.

The first thing they heard was voices. Very, very young voices.

_ “Did I pushed the right button?” _

_ “Well to be honest you’ve been randomly typing on the console since it began to make those weird sounds, and since they stopped I suppose this method worked.” _

_ “Maybe it was an alarm? Oh no are we in danger?!” _

_ “It didn’t sound like an alarm. More like a… ringing, maybe?” _

_ “Shouldn't the screen be turned on in that case? Dang it, how do you make this damn machine work?” _

Rodimus reset his vocaliser.

“This is Rodimus of the  _ Lost Light _ …”

He was interrupted by several yelps of surprise.

_ “The dashboard just talked!” _

_ “Is it the AI of the ship? I thought it didn’t work anymore!” _

“Aren’t you guys able to recognise a  _ phone call _ ? As I was saying, this is Rodimus, captain of the  _ Lost Light. _ The big ship on your left… Or on your right, I dunno. Can’t see where the front of your spaceship is. Anyway, we received your distress call some hours ago. Need a hand?”

A collective sigh echoed across the bridge.  _ “Finally,”  _ said the voices, and one of them explained that they needed a technician able to tell them how to make the engines of the ship work, and also if their savior had some fuel, surely they could trade something in exchange? Rodimus agreed, and promised them to send a shuttle within the next minutes, then ended the call.

“Are you sure this is a safe idea, Rodimus?” Ultra Magnus asked. “There is clearly something off. What kind of crew does not know how to make a dashboard work?”

“Well, we will ask them about that. And if they try any funny business, we kick their aft.”

“How could children be a threat?”

The mech spun around to face Drift. The white robot had not said a word since their arrival, and now he looked grave, solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“These were children’s voices, Rodimus.”

“Uh, yeah, I totally noticed,” he retorted with a voice that clearly indicated he had not noticed. “But it’s weird that young humans are in charge of such a big ship, right?”

“Indeed it is, but what concerned me the most was how their voice sounded.”

He turned his face toward the huge screen, where the ship was still visible, white and gray drowned into darkness.

“There was… so much despair, so much pain… It seems like they need more help than anything else. Captain, if you allow me, I would like to lead a rescue party for these people.”

Rodimus looked thoughtful for a short moment, then nodded.

“Alright. But you warn us as soon as there’s something wrong.”

Drift nodded and left the bridge. He called for Perceptor and Brainstorm; their scientific skills were needed to examine the ship’s engines, and the mass displacement gun of the latter could prove itself useful, should the earth vessel be too tiny for their massive frame. He called for Ratchet and First Aid; the first had some knowledge about the human anatomy, and the second was somehow curious (and his presence also less threatening than the grumpy medic’s). And finally, he called for Rewind, whose tiny and friendly frame could calm the humans, and whose camera could download some informations about the people they would be soon about to meet.

In a short time their shuttle was ready, and was now heading toward a destination that held many questions.

However, when they landed into the hangar that had been opened for them, they did not see anyone coming to greet them. The gates of the hangar closed with a thud, trapping them in a place with no presence but theirs.

Drift stepped out, looking around for someone, when something made him stop in his tracks.

The swordmech had not spent a long time on Earth — enough to behold the beauty of its wildlife, of its peaceful nature, but he had not been very close to the humans. But when you arrive on a battlefield such as Earth was during the Decepticon’s invasion, there is something that you cannot forget and is imprinted forever in your memory banks.

The place stank of blood.

The energon in his tanks churned uneasily. He glanced at Ratchet, who had come out of the shuttle. Judging by the medic’s expression, he too had recognised the metallic smell, and worry made his brow furrow.

“Hello?” Drift asked, turning his helm towards several small doors in front of them, barely reaching knee-height, which looked like the exits of the hangar. “Is anyone in here?”

His voice echoed within the metallic walls, and his words dissipated into eerie silence.

“Am I the only one who think that the atmosphere is very unnerving?” Brainstorm asked. If he thought he was dissipating the tension hanging in the air, he was not helping at all.

Drift shook his helm. This was not right. Where did the children go? Then his optics slightly widened. Were they not approaching them… because they were afraid? After all, the Cybertronians were giants compared to humans, thus it would be no surprised their height made them look intimidating.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Listen, we are not here to harm you. We are Autobots. We helped your kind to fight back the Decepticons on Earth. Surely you have heard of it?”

Only silence answered him, again.

“You called for help,” Drift continued. “What is your problem? What do you need? We are ready to give you assistance.”

Suddenly one of the door opened, startling the robots. There could see nothing but darkness inside the corridor.

Then a distant but firm voice asked:

“Is it true? Are you here to help?”

Drift nodded, even though he doubted that whoever was talking could see him.

“Yes. No harm will come to you, I promise. We Autobots value life above anything else.”

“I don’t know what an ‘Autobot’ is. And you talked about ‘Decepticon’ earlier. What was this story about Earth?”

“It is… strange that you know nothing about us. We made contact with Earth a few years ago.”

“Sir, miss, or whatever should your title be, we have no news about Earth since this ship left the planet thirty years ago. Thus, it is impossible for us to determine if your words are true or not.”

That was… unexpected. But now was not the time to investigate about this ship’s history.

“Is there a way I can convince you that we have no bad intention?” Drift asked softly.

A short silence. Then:

“Come closer. And let me look at you.”

It sounded more like a request than an order, but Drift nonetheless headed toward the open door, carefully walking so his footsteps would not be too brutal. He kneeled, then peered inside.

At first he saw nothing. The corridor was engulfed in darkness. Then he noticed it — two shining orbs, onyx encircled of white, looking at him straight into the optics.

Young and old at the same time. These eyes belonged to someone who had not lived for long, but who had also witnessed things they should not have seen, not at such young age. There was sadness, something looking like grief, and fear. But determination also burned inside of them, ready to take the world with them should it make them fall.

He saw, and the human saw. Both looked at the soul, at the spark of each other, and both were open books, there was no malice, their eyes spoke and told the truth.

The human was holding something — it looked like a gun. But now he, or rather she, was lowering it, and her body was beginning to relax.

“What is your name, giant rob- Autobot?”

He gently smiled.

“Drift. My name is Drift. What is yours, little one?”

“Kyoko.”

 

O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

 

She had been a fool.

That was the first thought that crossed her mind when she saw, through the window, what had stepped out of the huge shuttle. She bit her lip to stop a gasp to escape from her mouth, and she could feel the others stiffening next to her. 

Alicia had been right to suggest to stay hidden and see what their “saviors” looked like before coming to greet them. Had the children been in the hangar, they would have been in immediate danger.

Kyoko had been a fool to believe that the people from the…  _ Lost Light  _ – yes, that was the name of the ship, she remembered – would not be a threat. How could giant robots be  trustworthy? They were too sophisticated to be mere drones — it should be some sort of battle armor. The first to come out, mostly white, was carrying many swords, and she gulped at the idea of the blades cutting her body into thin bloody ribbons. 

Then more robots appeared, all of them different from each other. Three of them had no face, one was making a scary expression, and oh god, was that a cannon barrel on the shoulder of the red and black one? Wait, was the faceless one with the strange wings holding a  _ briefcase _ ? 

She had no time to study them further, for the white robot with the swords spoke, calling for someone.

It was strange. If these war machines had been sent to cause harm, they would not announce themselves like this. She waited, silent and still, and the others followed her example.

More words came, even more confusing. She had no idea what it was talking about. But if this thing was telling the truth… 

She turned her head toward her comrades, and asked them to hide while she would go to talk with these strangers. Mikael’s eyes widened with fear, probably thinking she was throwing herself into the lion’s mouth, and shook erratically his head, repeatedly mumbling “no, no, no”. Alicia simply arched an eyebrow, as if she was questioning her sanity, but made no comment. Christina, however, frowned and whispered:

“So you would be the first to meet giant cool robots while we stay behind? Nuh-huh, I’m coming with you!”

“Christina ‘Crystalline’ Fyre,  _ this is not a game _ . These people could be dangerous. If they are not, you will see them sooner or later. If they are, however…”

She did not finish her sentence, for she was afraid of the final words. She tried not to shudder, and motioned to her friends to go. Now was not the time to look weak. But Mikael guessed her fears, and gently took her right hand to press his lips against her knuckles — a gesture to give her courage, for he believed actions to be stronger than words. Then he began to leave. Alicia took the gun hanging from her shoulder off her, and handed it to Kyoko.

“Come back alive, my friend,” she said with a gentle voice.

She grabbed Christina by the shoulder, demanding her to follow her, but the youngest tried to struggle, opening her mouth to protest. A tightened grip and a dark glare silenced her, though she made a pouty expression at Alicia. She ignored it, and the two girls disappeared into the shadows.

Now Kyoko was left alone. She took a deep breathe, then opened the door.

Her voice did not tremble while she spoke. The robot’s words seemed genuine. When it talked about contact with Earth, she understood that they were aliens — aliens in robot suits, in that case? She still had to figure out if it was telling the truth.

One of her fathers once told her that, to discover someone’s intentions, someone’s true nature, you had to look deep into their eyes, for the eyes were the mirror of the soul. Most people retorted that it was nonsense, but Kyoko knew it was true — she was able to read a lot of things when she was staring into someone’s eyes. She was not a telepath. She was just good at recognising what was lies and what was honesty.

She heard – or rather felt, through the tremors slightly shaking the floor, the robot coming closer. She braced herself, ready for anything to come.

If she died today… At least she would see her fathers again.

But then she gazed into pure electric blue, and for one moment she stopped breathing.

Alive. These shiny eyes were pulsing life, welcoming life, and she understood that it –  _ he _ was not a threat. His look spoke of softness, of calm, of kindness, and she could feel that he too was reading into her. 

She understood that he was not a foe, but a friend, and that he knew that she understood.

She asked for his name, and his smile was the sweetest expression she had seen in weeks. 

‘Drift’.

That was a nice name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are the food of the writer's soul ;)


	3. The Meeting, Part 2

The human named Kyoko no longer looked afraid of him. Drift told her to wait a moment, then took a few steps backward and asked Brainstorm to use his mass-displacement gun. Now with a more appropriate height, he went to greet the human properly. She seemed surprised, as he bowed, to see the robot at eye-level — even though she only reached his abdominal plating — but made no comment and instead asked with a shy voice,

“I don’t want to sound offensive, mister Drift… But are you… a real robot… like, a sentient one?”

He nodded, and explained that they were autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron. After a war of four millions years, some of them had decided to begin a quest, looking for Cybertronians known as the Knights of Cybertron, their ancestors, who could restore their home to its former glory.

Strangely, as he said these words, the human’s eyes were filled with something akin to sadness, but also envy. He wondered why, but he put these thoughts aside, knowing that he would ask what was on her mind only when they would trust each other enough to do so. For now he had to proceed with cautious steps — he did not want to scare the little one off. So he politely asked if she was comfortable about leading his friends to the engines room. Then he added,

“We also have doctors, if you are in need of medical attention.”

She lowered her head as soon as the words left his mouth, and a bitter laugh escaped her lips. Then she blinked up at him with moist eyes. An aura of sorrow was surrounding her, and her voice was hoarse as she spoke,

“It’s too late. Those who needed help… they can’t be saved anymore… it’s no use… they…”

Her whole body was shaking, and she hid her face in her hands, as if she was ashamed of her display of weakness.

“They’re all dead,” she whimpered, and he saw that she was about to fall apart, she had been walking on a tightrope and she was about to fall into the abyss below, Drift saw that and did what he believed to be right.

Slowly, very carefully, he raised a servo to gently put it on her shoulder. She tensed only for a brief moment before leaning into the touch, and the second after he was holding her in his arms, a shaking form, smaller and frailer than before. He did not say a thing, stroking her back instead, slow and soft motions to bring her comfort.  _ It’s alright, _ his mind repeated, and his body language translated it, _ it’s alright, you’ll be alright, _ and the whimpers began to fade until no more sound escaped her lips, and she clung to him as if he was an anchor, something that kept her from breaking.

How long they remained in that position, his arms around her shoulders and her body against his, he did not know, but then a soft voice broke the silence,

“Kyoko?”

At the mention of her name, the girl immediately pulled away from him. But she expressed gratitude with her eyes before turning her head towards whoever had spoken. Drift followed her gaze to meet three pairs of eyes: one curious, one suspicious, and one expressing worry for the one he had hugged.

“It’s okay,” said Kyoko, her grief buried away as she appeased her fellow humans, “he’s here to help. Al, Crystalline, Mikael, this is Drift, a…” she paused, looking for an appropriate term, “alien from the planet Cybertron. Drift, these are my friends, Al, Crystalline and Mikael.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Drift said as he bowed.  _ Even though it is not under the best circumstances, _ he thought.

There was a short silence, then the human with the jet black organic helm — hair, he remembered — Mikael, as Kyoko called him, said with a slightly confused voice,

“I thought you were taller.”

“I am,” Drift nodded, “I just shrunk size.”

“But… how is it possible?”

“You have to thank the ship genius for that!” Brainstorm exclaimed, startling the children.

Drift resisted the urge to pinch his nasal bridge. The humans did not need a spark attack at the moment.

“Since when have you been eavesdropping, Brainstorm?”

“Since your voices reverberate from the corridor to the hangar,” Ratchet’s voice retorted.

An expression of discomfort spread across Kyoko's face, undoubtedly mortified by the possibility of her breakdown having been heard by the other robots. Drift sighed, then turned his attention to the children.

“Is it alright for my companions to come to meet you? Two of them are scientists and can give a look at the engines of your ship.”

The three children looked at each other with a questioning gaze, before looking back to Kyoko and Drift. Mikael said with a soft voice,

“Kyoko trusts you. And I trust her judgement.”

The child with the red hair and the green optics, Crystalline, vigorously nodded in agreement, excitement making her optics sparkle while she bit her lower lip, as if she was trying not to let any sound that was bubbling into her throat escape. However, the one with the short black hair and the icy blue optics, Al, glared at him, wariness narrowing her optics, but she kept her mouth shut and shrugged.

Drift called for the others to come, and soon enough the children were facing six downsized Autobots. Crystalline was staring at them in awe, and even though Al's face remained neutral it was obvious that she was annoyed with her friend's attitude. Rewind, First Aid and Brainstorm were looking at the humans with curious optics, while Ratchet seemed to hardly care. But he fooled no one — lot of bots knew the medic felt compassion toward organic life, especially humans. As for Perceptor, his optics were studying not only the four humans but also their surroundings, looking for something specific, anything that could give him a clue about this place and its occupants.

As soon as the presentations were over, Mikael motioned to the robots to follow him, and soon enough the small group was walking further and further inside the inners of the ship, their only source of light being the pocket torch the young boy was holding.

“Is there no lighting in this place, or you just keep everything dark because you think it's cool to do so?” Brainstorm asked, uncomfortable with the walls engulfed in darkness that seemed ready to fall upon the robots and trap them without mercy, but hey, there was no reason he could not joke about it.

“There is,” Al answered, and Drift was surprised to hear a deep, powerful voice, with a thick, warm accent, “but there’s no need to use it here. It’s important to ration the energy, and keep it for the most important areas.”

“You said something about leaving Earth thirty years ago?” Rewind asked with interest, the light of his camera on. “Why? Were you on quest like us?”

“Why should we tell you?” Al coldly retorted, then her lips dropped downward, as if she was remembering something sad. “It’s not important anymore. The purpose of this spaceship became useless after the… the red death happened.”

The children stopped dead in their tracks.  Whatever this ‘red death’ was, it had deeply wounded them, Drift could easily see it.

_ They’re all dead. _

He knew he had to keep quiet. He did not want to make bad memories resurface — he hoped the others would take the hint too.

Ratchet apparently did, because he took a step forward and told them that if they did not want to speak about it, then they did not have to. A “thank you” was hushed, then the humans resumed their walking. Their sorrow made the bots feel uneasy — with an endless war everyone had to deal with death and grief and mourning, but that these young beings had to face it too, it felt so unfair…

As time went by, the Autobots noticed that more and more lights were turned on as they passed, until the corridor led up to a large octagonal hall — four walls giving to hallways, the others four with doors instead —  orange lighting giving it an atmosphere of soothing sunset, in deep contrast with the former gloominess of the tunnels.

And in the middle of the hall, a little boy was standing, waiting. His head was facing the small group, but strangely, his optics — eyes — were not looking at them. Seeing him, Al immediately raced towards him, taking his hand and softly asking him what he was doing up here.

“Couldn’t sleep…” he muttered with a tired voice, a hand rubbing his eyes. “I heard footsteps… more than four. Who’s with you?”

“Sentient robots! Our visitors are sentient robots!” Crystalline exclaimed, almost bouncing on her feet. “Isn’t that awesome, Andres?”

The young human, ‘Andres’, looked confused. Al rolled her eyes at the other girl’s behaviour, while Kyoko repeated what Drift had told her. The Autobots greeted the boy, who seemed surprised by the sound of their voices. He tilted his head to the side, then hesitantly rose his hand — as if he wanted to ask something, but did not dare to.

“He wants to touch your face,” Al said to the Autobots, not aiming for anyone in particular.

The bots hesitated for a relative moment. The humans probably did not knew it, but in the pre-war Cybertron, you greeted your friends or loved ones by resting your head in their raised hands. It was a gesture of affection, accentuated by the circuits connected between the hand and the face during the contact.

Such token became superfluous during the war, since it was a time when you had to focus on surviving. And after witnessing so many violences, people were wary about letting strangers touch such a vulnerable area.

But the bots did not have to ponder for any longer moment, for to everyone’s surprise Ratchet moved forward to kneel in front of the child, his head within his reach. When hands of flesh made contact with a brow of metal, a quiet gasp escaped the boy’s lips, but then an expression of wonder lightened his face as he continued his exploration, fingers tracing the lines of Ratchet’s optics, of his nose, of his cheeks, of his mouth, of his jaw, then moving upwards to the helm and discovering its outlines. All the while Ratchet kept a poker face: he knew why the child acted this way, it was not a part of a peculiar human ritual, but necessary for this kid to have a better idea of these strangers.

The boy was blind.

And then Andres was done, retracting his hands and asking for his name. The medic gave it gruffly, and did not expect the kid to giggle after hearing it. But before he could ask what was so damn funny, a new voice rose, making everyone turn their head towards one of the doors, which was slightly ajar.

_ I know the rain like the clouds know the sky. _

Surprisingly, little smiles spread across the children’s face, and Rewind asked with a hushed voice what was going down.

“The Mute is singing,” Crystalline whispered with a brightened expression.

_ I speak to birds and tell them where to fly. _

“Come,” she added when Rewind begged her to show more, “but don’t make any sound.”

Rewind nodded, eager to discover who this mysterious singer was — his or her voice was magnificent to hear. The human and the robot leaned against the door, and both glanced inside.

_ I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze. _

It looked like a vast dormitory, filled with beds, and with blankets and cushions spread out everywhere on the floor. Children of all ages were either sitting on the mattresses or settled within the nest of blankets, looking at the center of the room, where the youngest ones, little toddlers, were gathered, heads lulling and eyelids lowering as they listened to the tall girl sitting among them.

_ I write the names of the rocks and the trees. _

Obsidian skin glimmered under the yellow light, and her long ebony-coloured hair were braided in a intricate pattern on her skull. Her eyes were closed, back straightened while she was holding a miniature version of a human, which she was gently rocking. She looked old — older than everyone else, that is. From between thick lips notes flowed and filled the room with soothing presence.

Then she breathed in and sang with a more powerful voice.

_ Oh you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you. _

_ Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins. _

Rewind knew it was supposed to be something to help the children go to sleep — a lullaby, he remembered. And yet he could not shake the feeling that there was a hidden meaning behind the lyrics. But looking at the humans’ face, he saw they were enthralled, all trace of sorrow gone.

Then he understood. This human — this ‘Mute’ — soothed her fellows and made them forget, for one moment, the horrors they had been forced to witness.

He felt the others’ presence behind him, all beholding the peculiar singer, all silent, and Rewind was glad he had a camera bolted to his head — it would have been a pity to have missed this, and he was excited to show it to the other bots on the  _ Lost Light,  _ and to Chromedome. Maybe it would soothe the taller bot too, who knows?

_ I tried to warn you when you were a child. _

_ I told you not to get lost in the wild. _

_ I sent you omens and all kinds of signs. _

_ I taught you melodies, poems and rhymes. _

The human continued to sing, her head tilted towards the ceiling, and it seemed she had forgotten about the world around her.

_ Oh you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you. _

_ You can run but you can't be saved. _

_ Darkness brings evil things, oh the reckoning begins. _

_ You have opened the yawning grave. _

She repeated the last verse, letting the last notes dissipate into the air, then lowered her head.

When she opened her eyes, she met Rewind’s own visor.

Black against red.

But with her mouth agape, she made no sound.

 

O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

 

If there was one fundamental truth Mikael had to know about Kyoko, it was the fact that the girl never, ever cried. Since the moment they had met, the children had time to learn about each other, and they had become best friends, despite their opposite physical appearance and different origins — Roma and Ukrainian blood flowed through his veins, and he held the same toffee skin as his mother, while Kyoko had inherited the pale beauty of her Japanese ancestors. Why should they care about something they did not choose? What mattered the most was what the people were, not what they looked like — a common thought shared by the two friends.

They shared a lot of things. Mikael was very open when he had to speak about his emotions, and yes, he cried, because sometimes it felt good to let his tears flow — and Kyoko never judged. Truth to be told, he was a bit of a crybaby, but she was always here to comfort him. When he was a toddler, he always ended up splattering the ground with tears because he had been running everywhere until he fell hard. That was how they met, actually: him sprawled on the ground, crying because he had scorched his knees and elbows, and her coming to his help, getting him on his feet and leading him to be taken care by the nurse of the sector, which was one of her fathers. All the while she stayed with him, and when, later, he asked why she did so, she shrugged, not really sure why, and really, did it matter? He had fondly hugged her to express his gratitude, and she returned the gesture with a huge smile — that was the first time she was hugged by someone else besides her fathers and she simply loved it.

When they got to better know each other, he often went to sleep at her place. They counted the stars through the window until they grew bored, then started tickle fights or pillow fights, depending on the mood of the evening. Then the two children would cuddle within a nest of blankets and he would confess his fears, his insecurities to her, and she would always listen, without any judgement. She lent an ear and it was enough.

Once, one of her fathers, a cook apprentice, was preparing some tea, and accidentally spilled the boiling water onto his daughter’s arm who was too close. The little girl was howling in pain, clutching her arm while her other father had hurried at her side to heal her — but not a single tear had escaped her eyes. Forked tongues said it was because the girl was unable to feel, but Mikael knew better than those narrow-minded hypocrites. Kyoko was capable of feelings — she just expressed it differently. What was the problem with that? When he told her his thoughts, she hugged him and thanked him deeply, touched by his understanding words. She did not really like to display signs of weakness, and if she had to, she would choose other ways than crying — and Mikael was perfectly alright with her way of thinking.

Some years later, when his family had despised him because he confessed that felt more like a male than a female, she had been here to take his defence. Kyoko had always been good to put people at their right place — and made no exception to Mikael’s family. These days had been the darkest of his existence — with the exception of the red death, of course — and would have been worse had Kyoko not been there to support him. He cried a lot during this time, and Kyoko never left his side.

The crybaby and the dry-eyed. At least, as both would ironically say, they reached a balance together.

A stream of tears flowed from his eyes when people started dying. But it did not do any good to his family, who he still loved deeply, while they all succumbed to the red death, their blood soaking the room around them — and red became a damned colour.

Kyoko did not cry while her fathers were dying too, like everyone else. She held their hands tightly as they erratically spasmed, hoping that it would pass, hoping that they would heal, that a cure would be found, hoping till the wave of reality crashed upon her when their hands went limp, and she did not cry — she roared like a wounded beast. Behind closed doors she let her sorrow drive her mad to the point she almost ripped her hair out, had Mikael not stopped her. Then she calmed down, or at least the surface, because she had to keep her cool to organize the life of the survivors — if it could be called a life…

The fact that she actually let her grief reveal itself to this stranger, this ‘Autobot’, was a token of trust. He did not know what she had seen in him to let her guard down, but it proved he was trustworthy. And to see him comfort Kyoko, his sister, he felt grateful.

How strange, though, to be called Drift! Ratchet was an odd name too. But while the latter looked like a grumpy old man, the former looked nicer — even though he was intimidating with all these swords he was carrying. But the robot was polite and kind, and had it been under better circumstances, Mikael would have loved to talk more with him. But now was not the time for friendly chat.

Now was the time to deal with dozens and dozens of eyes staring at them. Everyone had followed Olanna’s gaze — as always, her song had been pretty to hear — and was looking at their guests with flabbergasted eyes.

At least it was flabbergasted and not frightened. Oh well.

Kyoko cleared her throat, the only sound in the heavy silence.

“Sorry, I know it’s nap time, but some of our visitors wanted to have a better look at our singer.”

“It was awesome,” the little black robot with the red mask, Rewind, managed to say, despite the fact that it was undoubtedly uncomfortable to be stared at so intensely.

Olanna the Mute smiled, pleased, and moved her hands to say “thank you”. Then she asked who their guests were, and, after Alicia translated her moves, each Autobot gave their name, greeting the rest of the children.

“Is Leila here?” Kyoko asked. “Mr. Perceptor and Mr. Brainstorm can give a look at the engines and help her to power them.”

“She’s already in the engines room,” someone in the room said.

“For she wanted to be alone,” a second voice added.

There were only two people aboard this ship that completed each other’s sentence so smoothly. Kyoko told them to lead the two robots to the engines room, and two identical figures emerged from the crowd. The twins motioned to Brainstorm and Perceptor to follow them, and they left the room.

Then Mikael noticed that a good half of the people in the place had got closer to the robots, looking at them with growing curiosity. The youngest ones had huge excited smile spreading across their face, because, well, as Crystalline had put it, meeting actual living robots was awesome.

A little girl — Najiya, he recalled — more audacious than the others, took a step forward to stand in front of the closest robot, the one called First Aid.

“Hello there, little one,” he said gently as he knelt before her, maybe to look more friendly.

Which worked, because she held her arms out and firmly said, “Carry meh!”.

First Aid had a slight moment of hesitation before he took the four-year-old in his arms, and she clung to him like a koala, proudly smiling as if she was saying “See? I’m carried by a robot!”, then hiding her face into the crook of his neck.

Not even one second later another child asked to be held, to whom First Aid obliged. And then another crawled behind him to climb on his back. He did not look bothered at all — actually his… eyes? glasses? were shining, as if to express delight.

He sat on the floor, the three children still clinging to him, and everyone began to ask him questions, and he answered them politely and patiently, even the dumbest ones — no, he did not know any Wall-E or BB-8, even if they seemed to be nice guys.

Never before had been the kids so thrilled since the red death and its aftermath. Mikael noticed it, and so did Kyoko.

And it made them smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to NekoNoKami for the beta-lecture!
> 
> The adorable headcanon about how Cybertronians greet their friends and loved ones belongs to oriflamme ^^
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts about the chapter :) And have a nice day!


	4. The Meeting, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a lot of comments that gave me the motivation to keep going with this story, so I want to deeply thank you all :)  
> And the writing style is slightly different here. Sorry about that ^^'
> 
> Enjoy!

At first, Brainstorm had felt very excited when Drift had told him that the scientist would accompany him to the human vessel. The idea of meeting humans and studying their technology — while showing off his cleverness by helping these little fellas — simply felt awesome. Moreover he was teaming up with Perceptor, which was just _perfect._ But now, as he was trailing behind the two identical humans, who were whispering back and forth in a strange language he did not understand, he knew that his enthusiasm was gone for long. 

As soon as he had entered the spaceship — which he would now describe as creepy and very unnerving — his spark had been screaming at him that there was something wrong going on. And these thoughts were confirmed by the attitude of the earthlings. The little ones were haunted by the things they had seen.

Death spared neither innocents nor criminals.

He didn’t know what exactly happened, what this ‘red death’ was. And he was not really sure he wanted to ask for specifications when the children were still mourning.

Besides, they were other things that required his attention. Like the two kids leading the way. The one called Kyoko was small and chubby while ‘the Mute’ was a tall plump figure, but those before him had the same bulky silhouette, with a square face. Their helmet was devoid of the weird assemblage of proteins humans usually had. One was wearing blue clothes and the other green clothes, but the fabric was stained and old and faded to the point it was difficult to differentiate them. Their black, dim optics were sometimes glancing at them, before shyly looking back to the corridor.

Oh well, he could at least try to break the ice.

“Say,” his voice suddenly rose, curious, “what’s up with you two? Are you like clones, or is there just one of you and the other is a hologram because you want your own company?”

Perceptor wanted nothing more than to be shot in the head. _Right. Now._ As for the children, they had stopped walking and were looking at Brainstorm with widened eyes, clearly taken aback by his words.

And then they started giggling. 

They actually giggled! Despite hiding their mouth behind their hands, their muffled laughter were easily heard. Brainstorm would have never thought he would make someone laugh, and he had a huge smile spreading behind his mask. 

_Great,_ Perceptor thought coldly with an annoyed expression, _two people with the same level of humour as Brainstorm._

Then the children spoke.

“I would never spend time with another version of myself,” the blue-clothed one began with an amused smile.

“For I prefer the company of my _arabinrin_ ,” the green-clothed one finished.

“Thumbs up for the sync!” Brainstorm exclaimed, raising said fingers. “It’s like your minds are connected, that’s awesome! Is there a port to share, so I can join the party?”

The kids looked at each other with a knowing smile.

“ _O jẹ_ funny,” one said in the strange language they were speaking earlier.

“ _Mo ro pe oun yoo_ Leila _fẹran rẹ_ ,” the other said in return.

“Too bad you’re not speaking science language, I would have loved to join the conversation.”

“We didn’t ask for your names,” Perceptor interrupted, unable to bear Brainstorm’s nonsense any longer.

“Indeed,” the blue-clothed nodded, then motionned to her partner. “This is my _arakunrin_ , my brother, Akande.”

The other repeated the same gesture.

“And this is my _arabinrin_ , my sister, Feyikemi. We apologise for not introducing ourselves earlier.”

“Because we were feeling a bit awkward,” Feyikemi finished.

“Oh, don't be. You should feel intrigued instead, for you are before the two greatest Cybertronian scientists!” he widely opened his arms to show off.

He didn't expect what came next.

“Um… We thought you were some sort of bureaucrat.”

“Because of the briefcase.”

Perceptor bit back a tiny smile. He knew it was a serious situation but their voices had some sort of power that lifted off the weight in the air, and he couldn't deny that it felt nice.

“Aw man,” Brainstorm halfheartedly whined, “and here I hoped I could impress you with my brilliance! I missed the chance, dammit.”

A mischievous spark lightened the twins’ eyes.

“Well, sir, you do look…”

“ _Stunning_.”

Although the pun was good (at least to Brainstorm), the humans immediately looked ashamed, as if they had said something wrong.

“We’re sorry…” Feyikemi whispered with a sheepish, unhappy smile.

“It’s just, it’s been too long since we haven’t… Oh, forget it,” Akande dismissed his words by shaking his head.

“It’s still too soon, isn’t it?”

Their good mood now evaporated, they turned around and resumed their walk. Brainstorm and Perceptor shared a perplexed look, sighed, and followed them. The rest of the trip was short, but silent, the children holding each other’s hands tightly. 

Then the small group arrived in front of a massive grey door. The twins knocked to announce themselves, taped the code and came in as soon as the door disappeared into the wall. 

The lighting in the room was dim, enough to navigate without bumping everywhere, but casting shadows here and there. Massive machines, probably the engines, quietly rumbled against a wall.

“Leila?” Akande called. “Are you in there?”

“Where else should I be?” a gravelly voice answered from above. “It’s my lair after all.”

Brainstorm raised his head and saw a petite figure hanging from the ceiling. Sparks were flying around her and her back facing them, her hands flawlessly manipulating the tools hanging in her waistband.

“So, what seemed so important that you decided it was worthy enough to chit-chat with the—”

She raised her safety goggles, turned around and met his gaze.

“—dwarf…”

The last word was barely a bewildered croak. Mouth agape, she stared at him with widened eyes. She looked at Perceptor, then back at him, then at the twins. Then she pinched her nose.

"How long," she huffed, "have I been in there."

"Around fourteen hours," Akande answered.

"So yeah, you pulled an all-nighter," Feyikemi added. "Which is extremely unhealthy."

"But if you think that these persons are an illusion due to sleep-deprivation…"

"They're not. They picked up our distress signal some time ago and they have come to help us. Their names are Perceptor and Brainstorm"

"Hi," Brainstorm waved.

Dumbfounded and at loss of words, Leila didn't think and waved back. With the motion, the soldering iron she was holding slipped and fell on the floor with a hard thud.

“Shit, I needed that!”

"Language!" the twins shouted.

“Do not worry,” Perceptor said, picking up the tool. “I can fix it.” He went to a table nearby and immediately began to work.

“That’s… nice,” Leila hesitated, taken aback.

She took the cord she was hitched to and gently went back to the floor. She was close enough, Brainstorm could touch her if he extended his arm. She seemed to be the same age as the twins but she was extremely tiny compared to them. If he had more knowledge about the humans, maybe he would have noticed the blatant signs of tiredness: drawn features, dull complexion, dry skin, dark rings. But he immediately recognised her as the type who threw themselves into work to forget about the world and its problems.

They locked eyes. She tilted her head to the side, curiosity replacing the confusion prior. He repeated the gesture, amusement filling his field. For a moment they stayed silent, politely studying each other.

Brainstorm knew a fellow scientist when he saw one. He suddenly felt excited at the idea of sharing his insights with her. Was she the experimenting kind like him? Or was she as reserved and boring as Perceptor?

Said microscope cleared his throat, bringing them back to reality. He handed her the now repaired soldering iron without a word before asking,

“I suppose you are the one in charge of the engines room?”

“‘In charge’, that’s a strong word. Just because I was the daughter of the chief engineer, doesn’t mean I know what to do. 'Cause otherwise, we wouldn't be here. I only make sure that the things here don’t fall apart, that’s it.”

She pointed at the impressive machines.

“Have a look and tell us how we can, I don’t know, jump into a black hole or something. Not that we have anywhere to go anyways,” she muttered under her breath.

The twins must have heard her, because they looked hurt. Perceptor nodded and started to study the human technology. Brainstorm followed him, although casting a glance to ‘Leila’ from time to time. She stood on the side, arms crossed over her chest. The twins, queasy, shifted on their feet.

“Leila,” Akande finally asked when he noticed the girl stifling a yawn, “do you want us to bring you back to the dormitory?”

She shook her head. 

“Go back if you want. I’ll stay here and see what they find. I’ll report to Kyoko then.”

The two children sighed, waved her goodbye and left.

"Your companions do have a point," Perceptor raised his voice after a moment. "Your body and your brain will work more efficiently if you get some rest."

"I don't wanna go to sleep," the girl mumbled. 

"Well, you know what they say," Brainstorm declared, still examining the (rather primitive, in his opinion) engines. "Sleep is for the strong."

"Uh, you sure it's not 'for the weak'?" 

"Bitlet, look at us. We're two of the most brilliant minds of Cybertron. Only the weakest mind would think it's best to stay awake for unhealthy amounts of time. As a genius, I know where my limits are."

Perceptor rolled his optics.

"Do I have to remind you that more than once you fell asleep on your desk?"

"How would you know that? Do you like to come into my lab unnoticed?" Brainstorm asked in a teasing tone.

"No, I just witnessed Chromedome dragging your half-asleep frame in the corridors."

"Are you guys married?" 

That made them choke on the imaginary drink they had been drinking. But the human's question was out of genuine curiosity. Perceptor coughed and readjusted his lens, shaking his head. Brainstorm shrugged. Leila raised an eyebrow.

"Huh. I thought… nevermind. So, did you resolve the mystery of the engines?" 

"It's just a banal magnetoplasmadynamic thruster. Nothing incredible here."

Leila gave Brainstorm a blank look.

"Hold a klik, how should I explain it…"

"I _know_ what a freaking magnetoplasmadynamic thruster is, sir. My father insulted it every day. What I want to know is how to make it work."

"It is out of gas and needs a great source of electricity," Perceptor explained. "How is the power delivered here?"

A look of realisation came across her face as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Oh for crying out loud why didn't I think of it sooner?!"

She raced, or rather limped across the room, opening a secondary door settled in a corner. The two mechs followed her, confused. As soon as they entered the room, they heard an angry shout.

"Fuck, fuck and double fuck! I'm so stupid. Of course it was the batteries. Of freaking course!"

The little girl was standing in front of big glowing square things, clutching her head in her hands.

"What's wrong?"

She turned around and glared at nothing in particular.

"Do you know how much energy a magnetoplasmadynamic thruster needs to ionize the gas, so it can be ejected? Hundreds, even thousand of gigawatts! On this ship, electricity is generated by two means: the solar panels and the nuclear batteries. But the latter is only used in case of emergency and you need a special authorisation to get near them. So most of the time, the batteries behind me are recharged thanks to solar power. That's why the ship often gravitated toward stars: to recharge the batteries that would then boost the engines! And guess what? The batteries are out of juice because _we have been drifting in space, out of the reach of any freaking star!"_

The human was starting to make odd, worrying wheezing sounds.

"I spent _days_ trying to find out what was wrong, what was malfunctioning, before giving up. I thought that something tricky like the electrodes had melted or broken, but no, it was a thing as simple as the power! I don't have the access to the nuclear batteries so unless we find a way to make the dead talk, we're stuck! We're stuck because I was too stupid to notice that something as simple as the electricity wasn't working! How will I be able to explain that to the others now?! Oh hey guys, sorry to shatter your hopes in pieces but we can't go anywhere because—"

"Bitlet."

The soft, quiet voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Brainstorm was kneeling before her, close without touching. He felt awkward, unsure how to comfort a stranger, but he still wanted to try. It was a child who was worrying about problems she shouldn't face alone, and yet here she was, crumbling under the weight thrown upon her shoulders. Anyone would have understood how spark breaking the sight was.

"Bitlet, you need to calm down."

"You don't understand!" she cried out, shaking from head to toe. "If I fail the only thing I'm good at, then what use am I good for? If I'm not a skilled engineer, then I go back to being a _freak_ in the crew's eyes!" 

She frantically agitated her hands in front of him. That's when he noticed that she had twelve fingers instead of ten.

Wait. _That_ was why she was disregarded? That was ridiculous.

As gently as he could, he took her small, soft hands in his own hard, metallic ones. The motion startled her, but he let enough space she could pull away if she wanted. She gave him a confused look, but didn't move.

"How old are you, bitlet?"

"I'm… eleven years old."

"Ok _wow,_ that's even younger than I thought. Listen: I already told you, I'm a skilled scientist. But do you know what I was doing when I was your age? I was still learning. I don't know how it works for humans, but we're already adults at eleven. And yet, back then, I wasn't at my full potential. My mentor and partner was someone very open and kind, he taught me a lot of things, but most of all, he did it patiently. I was born as a genius, but it took time to discover all my skills. I didn't mastered sciences in one day, and that's perfectly okay. So you don't have to worry about not being perfect. You make mistakes, yes, so what? Anyone needs to make errors from time to time, because we learn from them. Do you understand?"

The human was gaping at him, but any trace of stress was gone while she nodded. His words had deeply touched her, even if her sadness hadn't entirely faded.

"But I'm…"

"Young? A human? An Earthling? I saw that and I don't care. If you take your time, if you understand that failing is not the end of the world, then someday you will be a good engineer. Not as great as me, but still a good one."

He softly squeezed her hands to emphasise his words. She hesitated, then squeezed back, her lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile.

Perceptor stayed silent, although he was impressed by the whole exchange. He never thought that Brainstorm could be this mature, or able to talk with such wisdom, especially toward a child that clearly needed some comfort.

And Leila did feel better, as she let a tired whimper escape from her throat. She didn't want to look strong anymore. She took a step forward and pressed her forehead against Brainstorm's shoulder. Although surprised, he didn't move, his hands still holding hers.

"I want to sleep…"

"I'll bring you back to the dormitory, yeah?"

She nodded, too exhausted to talk properly. Slowly, delicately, the teal jet wrapped an arm around her back before picking her up, securely pressing her against his chest. Her tanned, skeleton-like arms took hold of his neck and she found solace in the embrace of this alien creature that treated her like a precious thing.

Precious, but as fragile as crystal, Brainstorm thought as he got out of the engines room, followed by Perceptor. He was tense because she was like a piece of glass he would break if he made the wrong move. The feeling of human flesh was weird, not unpleasant but… still weird. His hands were almost sinking in the pliable skin and he changed their position every now and then, worried he might hurt her.

He was so focused into holding her correctly, he didn't notice he had taken the wrong corridor until Leila suddenly tightened her grip, recognising the place.

"Not this way…" she mumbled. "It leads to the morgue. Unless you want to get sick too, you shouldn't… go there."

Both Brainstorm and Perceptor froze.

"What did you say?" the microscope asked, his mind racing at a thousand miles.

"I said, not there," she grumbled. "Are you deaf?"

"You said something about getting sick. What did you mean?"

She shot him a puzzled look through the haze of her exhaustion.

"Seriously? The others didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what, bitlet?" Brainstorm asked with a worried voice.

Leila grumbled something about the incompetence of their so-called leaders then snapped her head up in dread as she realised something.

"You… you shouldn't be here if you don't know. We're survivors… maybe not for long. Everyone else… the adults… they succumbed to an epidemic, to the red death. Why…"

She stared at them in horror.

_"Why aren't you puking your own blood yet?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akande and Feyikemi speak Yoruba:   
> "He is funny"  
> "I think Leila will like him"


End file.
